


A Lot of Talk

by scatter



Series: Dirty Talk [1]
Category: Persona 4
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Community: badbadbathhouse, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, M/M, Power Imbalance, Sexual Abuse, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-17
Updated: 2011-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-18 05:03:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatter/pseuds/scatter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dojima orders Souji to his knees but he's not as in charge of the situation as he'd like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lot of Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a [prompt](http://badbadbathhouse.livejournal.com/1990.html?thread=11778502#t11778502) at the Persona 4 Kink Meme: _Anon has a simple request: dirty talk._  
>  Just lots and lots of dirty talk.
> 
> _Phone sex, whispers in bed, words meant to humiliate, words meant to arouse, give me anything. I'm fine with dubcon, noncon, and incest as well, if you decide to go for my guilty pleasure Dojima/Souji._

This time, Souji brought it on himself.

Dojima didn't have anything planned when he agreed to let Nanako stay at a friend's house. His only aim was to be a good father for once. Sleepovers had been a rare occurrence for Nanako before Souji arrived; she never asked for them, too sure, maybe, that'd he'd say no and too concerned about making sure the house was straight, and he never brought the subject up, too detached from his daughter to think of it. So when she asked the question before dinner, he'd seen it as an opportunity to do something right. Get her out of the house for a while, let her have some fun. He'd even given her some pocket money because she said her friend's mother was going to take them to see a movie. Souji hadn't factored into the decision at all.

Not until Dojima looked over at him and spotted the sullen, mulish expression on his face, like he thought he knew why Dojima was agreeing. Like the decision was all about him.

Despite what Souji might have been led to believe by his friends, not everything revolved around him, but if that's what he was thinking then Dojima wasn't going to disappoint him. That quickly, his plans to go straight to bed were replaced.

Dojima saw Nanako off at the door, gave her a kiss, and entrusted her into the care of the neighbor. As soon as the door closed, Souji put his plate away and excused himself, very carefully not looking at him. "I'm not feeling well."

Dojima caught his face as he walked by and turned it side-to-side. Souji stiffened but stared back at him steadily, full of himself and full of defiance.

Much too often, he forgot whose house he was in.

"You look fine to me," Dojima said. Souji might have been pale but he knew that reaction well enough now to pin it on nerves and not sickness. Souji did get sick sometimes – terrible eating habits that Dojima was half-convinced were on purpose – but that brought sweating and shaking hands, fever and chills.

This strained expression and lack of color was his version of anticipation.

He released Souji, turned away, and pulled out a cigarette. "Go upstairs, I'll be with you in a minute."

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Souji staring at him, hands clenched into fists, mouth thin with anger, and seemingly on the verge of saying something. What, Dojima would have liked to hear. Nothing new, he was sure; Souji only had so many excuses, only so much eloquence around him – he might be able to charm his friends until they were eating out of his hand, but he lost that around Dojima.

He left without speaking, walking away stiff-backed and silent, and Dojima shrugged. "Leave your door unlocked."

A cheap parting shot, but it got a reaction; Souji made a frustrated sound and stomped up the first two steps before reining himself back in.

Dojima went to the backyard, smoked for a while. More than letting Souji stew – letting him worry, letting him grow anxious, letting him grow aroused—yes, aroused because Dojima knew his secrets, knew what he wanted not matter how much he denied it… More than that, or at least about as much, Dojima wanted the smell to cling to him because in a few minutes he'd be transferring it to Souji. Dojima might not have been a scientific man but he knew smell was closely associated with memory. A certain perfume made him think of his wife, and he wanted Souji to remember him whenever someone lit up.

Dojima aimed to be a good father. He'd had few illusions about being a good uncle when Souji arrived and none now.

Souji was kneeling by his couch when Dojima walked in, head down and fists on his thighs. Occasionally, that was fine; Dojima was pleased with Souji knowing what he wanted, with this subtle sign of eagerness. Tonight, it didn't have its usual effect. Tonight, it might have been what Dojima wanted – Souji's mouth had been what initially drew his attention to him, the way he sometimes licked the corner the original inspiration for dreams the like Dojima hadn't had in years – but it wasn't for the right reasons, wasn't eagerness or obedience or a desire to please. It was an attempt to get this over with as fast as possible, plain and simple, and Dojima wasn't going to put up with it. Only one person set the pace and it wasn't Souji.

"Stand up," he said, and Souji stayed on the ground a few seconds too long – too damn defiant, this boy – before rising. He kept his eyes down. "Look up, don't you have any manners?"

Of course not, look at who he ran with – Hanamura, that bumbling Junes city boy, and Tatsumi, the embodiment of a punk. Neither of them would say a polite word unless they were forced to and they'd been a bad influence on Souji, rubbed off on him.

(And Souji had probably rubbed off on them as well, his head thrown back, panting raggedly, cock hard and covered with his own come.)

Souji's head jerked up. His lips were still twisted sullenly. How distasteful, his expression said; this whole thing makes me sick.

Dojima's cock hardened.

"Relax your hands," he said, "or you'll give yourself a cramp. You'll be able to fist them around something soon enough, but right now I want you to undo my tie."

Souji had quick, clever hands, a good match for his mouth, and they worked on Dojima's tie with practiced ease. Sometimes, Dojima made him do it up in the morning, before Nanako was awake. He had to pull Souji out of bed and shake him awake but the payoff was worth the trouble, seeing Souji drowsy in his nightclothes, too tired to complain or fight or argue when Dojima touched him or took a kiss.

He took one now and gave Souji half a second of warning by grabbing the back of his head, fingers tight enough in his hair for pain. Souji gasped when their mouths met, clicked his teeth shut before Dojima's tongue could get past them, and tried to turn his head away. No success there, but his lips pressed together and he stiffened.

Dojima knew this act; if Souji pretended he didn't want it then he could moralize it to himself later, convince himself that Dojima had forced him and that his hands were clean. Dojima wasn't interested in morals, not right now. Now his attention was on Souji's fingers tightening around the knot of his tie.

He'd discovered a while ago that, once he figured out what to watch for, Souji had plenty of ticks to give him away.

"Open your mouth," he growled.

"You smell like smoke," Souji said, the words barely escaping him. "You taste like it too, I _hate_ that."

"Open your mouth, Souji, or I'll do it for you." He could. A hand on the jaw to force it apart, just the right threat, a knee working between Souji's legs until he was panting so hard he couldn't resist – they were all good options but so was force of will and the satisfaction that came with getting a result with nothing more than an order was hard to match.

Dojima's house, Dojima's rules; he was the adult here, and Souji was supposed to obey.

Another few seconds of defiance, a shudder running through his body as his jaw clenched, a muscle twitching – and then Souji's mouth falling open, slack, and such a disinterested, blank look on his face that Dojima's temper almost flared up.

He managed to keep it in check, threw Souji's little game off by softening his kiss, his earlier intensity, the intensity he wanted, momentarily pushed aside. No tongue at first, just his mouth moving against Souji's lips (chapped now, but they'd slick soon, he just had to be patient), and loosening his fingers in Souji's hair, feeling Souji's stance change as confusion overtook him. Souji's hands were still hard on his tie, not pulling – he'd never get that kind of tell, not from Souji – but not dropping away either.

Souji looked at him warily when he pulled away. Dojima wasn't that tender often, didn't like being that way, but sometimes he had to bend to get the reaction he wanted and throwing Souji off-balance was always its own reward.

"S'not so bad, right?" He smiled. Souji didn't blink. "Now kiss me back this time."

Souji did, careful not to seem too enthusiastic, and he resisted when Dojima put his hand on his hip and tugged him forward, but Dojima was stronger and it was either move or fall. Their hips met – they were more or less the same height – and he pushed, let Souji feel the erection that strained against his boxers, made him feel it. Souji's fingers twitched – either restrained desire or restrained violence – and he exhaled heavily.

"Tongue," Dojima muttered, and forced his into Souji's mouth before he could reply.

Feeling their tongues slide against each other made Dojima harder, made him want to cut to the chase. He got sloppy; tame pecks and slow make outs weren't his thing, and saliva escaped the seal of their mouths to make its way down Souji's chin. He rolled their hips together, got a hint of a whimper or something like it, did it again and moved his hand off Souji's hip, put it back around and between his legs. Souji's nightclothes were thin, made to breathe, and he could feel his sac, could reach further and fondle his dick.

If Souji hated this like he said, like he tried to act, it would have been soft. He found it half-hard and groped clumsily.

"What's this?" He put enough space between their mouths to speak clearly.

"Ugh, don't—" Souji's hands left his tie, found and gripped his shirt instead. His face was red and distressed.

"Souji, we go through this every time—"

"Wouldn't have to if you'd just stop—"

Dojima put an edge to his tone and shut Souji up. "—and frankly I'm starting to get tired of this act. Things would be a hell of a lot easier on you if you just admitted you wanted this. You'd sleep better at night." He wouldn't keep Dojima up at night with his pacing and late phone calls.

"I don't," Souji said, glaring at the floor. "I don’t, _I don't_ …"

"Then you're a slut, getting hard for someone you don't want?" He brought his hand around front, cupped Souji through his pants, squeezed him hard and twisted. Souji panted and sagged, rode Dojima's hand before he could still himself. "You'd let anyone do this, is that it? Spread your legs and open your mouth as long as you got off?"

"You don't—you never let me…" Frustration made Souji's voice a near whine.

Damn right Dojima never let him come. "Think about it: the fact that you want to come at all says something about you, Souji. It means you want this." He rubbed harder, feeling the outline of Souji's cock as it hardened in his grip. "And by the feel of things now, you want my hand on you. Open your fly."

Souji gave a tiny shake of his head.

"Do it, let me see what you're always trying to hide. If you think you're fooling me, you're wrong. I know you get hard when you're on your knees for me; I've seen you trying to resist touching yourself. What do you think of when you're finally alone and you take care of it?" He put his mouth next to Souji's ear and kept making slow circles over Souji's crotch. He could feel the strain in Souji's body as he fought not to respond, to not give in and hump his hand like he desperately wanted to. "Having a mouth full of my cock, stretching your lips and hitting the back of your throat? Or is it the shame you must feel about how much to respond to it, licking your uncle's cock and touching his sac? Do you come thinking of me holding your hair and fucking your mouth until you can't breathe, standing over you and bending your head back?"

Souji made some meaningless noise.

"Or do you want me to take it further, want me to finally lay you out on your futon, lube you up and fuck you raw? Let me tell you this: I've thought about it, about how easy it'd be to push you down and turn you over and bury myself in your ass. You probably jerk off at night thinking about it, fingers stuffed up your hole – or do you rub yourself off on the sheets and bite a pillow to keep yourself from making any noise?" If he kept moving his hand, Souji was going to come. Already there was dampness building up on his slacks and seeping through the thin cotton. "Maybe you're just waiting for me to do it."

"No." Souji's control slipped and he rocked forward, seeking more friction. Dojima gave it to him with a rough grope before backing off. "No, not to—"

"Don't lie; I've seen your sheets." Seen how often Souji washed them too. Teenagers had no control over themselves or their dreams, but at least Souji had the decency to do his own laundry.

"Not to you," Souji said, and looked Dojima in the face. His cheeks were flushed and damp with sweat, his eyes hazy. He blinked to focus and managed to take some of the shakiness out of his voice. "I've never thought of you while I did it, not once, and I never will."

Dojima stared at him before releasing him. "Take off my belt."

Souji did, hands moving efficiently. His eyes were clearing – too clear now, voice too steady, all that damned defiance back in him. "When I think about—when I think about _him_ , I want it. I want it bad, Dojima-san, so bad that I get harder than I ever do taking care of you." He tossed the belt the ground so hard it made a harsh snap.

Dojima ground his teeth together and told himself not to let Souji get under his skin. "What are you just standing there for? Put those hands to good use and take out my cock."

Souji was smiling now, and going slower, prolonging things. Long, familiar fingers touched him; Dojima had received a dozen handjobs from them, had made Souji lick the come off of them just as many times, but now he could only think of Souji stroking himself, stroking himself and thinking of some boy he knew. "Sometimes, I do it. I lie in bed and I rub myself on the sheet until I can't stand it and I imagine him behind me and fucking me and begging me—making me say his name, and I do every time, I've never said Dojima-san, you're not in my head then, you're the last thing I'm thinking of—"

Dojima brushed by him and sat on the couch. Souji cut himself off, swallowed hard, and watched as he spread his legs wide, bracing his feet on the work table. His was cock completely exposed, pants and boxers pushed down. His sac hung heavy, his dick was long and stiff, erection unaffected by Souji's attitude, and he knew whoever Souji was thinking about couldn't match this. "Get on your knees, Souji. Instead of hearing your nonsense, I'm going to put that mouth of yours to good use."

He expected a no and was poised to counter it, but Souji surprised him by stepping over the table and sinking down without hesitation. In some ways, Souji-on-his-knees wasn't too different from Souji-on-his-feet – he usually had that same surly look on his face and the confidence was still there along with the distain and anger. The difference was that on his knees, given enough time, he could get Souji to crack, make those pretty eyes water and hear him gag on his cock, get him to whimper and see raw emotion play over his face.

That's what usually happened. Now, Souji leaned forward, a smile on his lips, and said, "I think about him when I'm doing this too. That's why I get hard sometimes because when it's too much – when I hate you so much I want to bite – I think of him and it's not so bad. Then, I want to grab myself and be filthy, so filthy you wouldn't believe it, you wouldn't be able to keep yourself from wanting me. It takes everything I have to not come in my pants."

Dojima grabbed his hair and smacked his dick against Souji's cheek. "Suck me off."

Souji licked him. He usually didn't to this without being told; it was the head in his mouth with his hand stroking what he couldn't reach, or his sac being teased. What Souji did now – a long, slow, very wet pass of his tongue from sac to head; closed eyes and a moan Dojima had never heard from him – wasn't for him. It might have been a pleasure to receive those licks, to see Souji look up at him with lidded eyes, one good enough that Dojima almost took himself in hand and jerked off to come on his tongue, but Dojima knew the real intent behind them.

Souji thought he was winning. To hell with that.

"I said suck. Open your mouth." His cock bumped impatiently against Souji's lips.

Souji kissed it, tongue peeking out to tease the slit and taste precome. "Yes, Uncle."

"That's right." The acknowledgement of their relationship made his hips move, and the head of his cock disappeared into the warm wetness of Souji's mouth. "You're going to take it all today, Souji. It's been too long since we've done this. I've missed seeing you kneel like this."

Souji hummed, rolled his eyes, and moved a hand between his legs, not touching himself but close enough to tease. Playing it up or not, Dojima crept closer to orgasm. He'd seen Souji confident throughout this, seen him angry and resigned and crying, but wanton was new, these tempting looks and sighs unfamiliar territory.

Souji removed his mouth just enough to speak, the reverberations running across sensitive skin. "Make me gag, Dojima-san. I want you to use my mouth like you've thought about using my ass. I want to be so sore in the morning I can't speak." He didn't quite sound convincing but Dojima didn't care. He drove himself deeper in, earning a gasp, earning – of all things – a muffled laugh. Souji's eyes mocked, but his mouth worked more than willingly, cheeks hollowing, tongue caressing him, and one hand coming up to grab his sac.

Dojima did use his mouth, fucked it in long, deep strokes that kept Souji from saying anything else. His cock slid out covered in spit, slid in smoothly, and twice he took it out entirely to force it up against Souji's face, to make him lick it again and smear slick streaks of precome and saliva on his face.

Souji took it all, and during the moments he was free to talk he begged for more and told Dojima how good it was in a voice that would have landed half the cops in Inaba in jail.

"Your mouth's better full," Dojima said, though Souji's words aroused him more than anything in recent memory. "Keep talking and I'm going to paint your face white."

"Yes, yes."

"You'd like that, huh, lick it up like you were starving, let me cover your cheeks and your neck—"

"Everything," Souji said, and rolled his body distractingly. "Everywhere, anywhere you wanted, Dojima-san. I can take it; I want you to give it to me."

Dojima could have come like this easy. Souji had always been good – except for the first few times but that was to be expected – but this was above and beyond for him, his enthusiasm unusual, the look on his face as his lips closed around the shaft of Dojima's cock one he'd never worn before.

When Dojima figured it out, when it all clicked into place, he smiled and slackened his pace.

"Whose cock have you been sucking?"

Souji touched his mouth and pulled away sticky fingers. His face was flushed, his hair stuck up, and his lips were red and wet. "Yours, Uncle. Please let me keep going, please don't tease me."

"That's not what I'm talking about." Dojima let him suck on the tip, forced him to look up while he did it. "You've been… It's – let me guess – that Hanamura boy, isn't it? You've been burying your face in his lap and sucking his cock."

Souji froze, and Dojima had his answer. "No," Souji said flatly.

"Don't lie to me, Souji. Gone from thinking about it to actually doing it, have you?" The confidence and wantonness faded from Souji's face. It blanked, and he ignored the cock bobbing an inch away from his mouth. "He must have been impressed the first time you put all that experience to use. Did you do something fancy and impress him or did you manage to hold back? He probably didn't last long enough for you to enjoy it, but then again you must have been happy just having your mouth full. Let's be honest with each other, Souji: you're a cocksucker. That bulge in your pants doesn't lie. So get back to work."

Souji's breathing came hard and fast. His eyes were narrowed, the hand between his legs a fist like he wanted to take a swing.

Dojima took his cock in hand, mashed the tip to Souji's mouth, and kept it there until Souji opened up.

And then he was back in charge.

"How'd it start?" He asked. Souji wasn't moving, but that was fine; he'd asked to be used and Dojima was doing just that, forcing his cock pass those swollen lips time and time again, watching as Souji swallowed and took more in with every push. "Lunch on the roof, some meet up in the school restroom? You came on to him, I'm sure – he's too damn jittery to approach you, and you're… Well, you just wanted it. Said it yourself that you thought about it, wanted to have him in your ass and order you to say his name." Dojima couldn't remember the kid's name now. It didn't matter. "Have you gotten that far? That's what you were thinking of now, wasn't it? You were pretending I was him or remembering him and fooling yourself. Well, Souji, it's just me and you. That's my cock in your mouth, it was there before his, and…" He paused to groan and force Souji lower, to get every bit of him he was capable of holding in his mouth. Souji sounded close to gagging. "…you're about to swallow my come, not his."

He came with sharp jerks, spent himself down Souji's throat, and watched in satisfaction as Souji shut his eyes and took it with no defiant glare or attitude. Seeing him enjoy it, really enjoy it, would have been nice, but resignation worked well too as long as he understood where things stood.

He pulled out. "Lick me until I tell you to stop." He murmured as Souji obeyed – "That's good" and "Right there" and other encouragements – let it go for a bit before finally releasing Souji's hair and pushing him back. "That's enough."

Souji didn't stand. He stared at Dojima and deliberately wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. As though that meant something.

"Don't be like that," Dojima said, in a better mood than when they'd started. "Why don't you do what you were talking about earlier, take care of yourself in front of me? No? Guess all that talk was for nothing."

He stood over Souji and tucked himself away. Souji watched him through his fringe, aroused but unwilling to do anything about it, and Dojima wondered when he'd give in, what he'd think about when he did – Hanamura or this.

He saw himself to the door and was surprised when Souji stood and followed him, staying in his room as Dojima entered the hallway. There was an odd, thoughtful look growing on his face, a weird smile.

"Something you want to say?"

"That dirty stuff you were saying earlier? I was hard during it, you know."

"I noticed," Dojima said, but his interest was piqued. Maybe now Souji would just admit—

"I was hard," Souji said, one hand on the door, "because I kept thinking how Yosuke does the same thing, talk dirty, and about—well, how much better at it he is than you."

With a final, quick smile, Souji closed and locked the door.


End file.
